


shh!

by OedipusOctopus



Series: burn in the afterthought [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Can be read alone, Crying During Sex, Fantasizing, M/M, PWP, Sex Toys, Sort Of, found this in my google doc cleanout today, or as a companion/future one shot to burn in the afterthought, unbeta'd we die like champions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OedipusOctopus/pseuds/OedipusOctopus
Summary: McCree's current mission has unexpectedly been extended, and Hanzo gets lonely.Can be read alone or as a future companion to burn in the afterthought.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: burn in the afterthought [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696000
Kudos: 75





	shh!

**Author's Note:**

> it came to me in a dream and has been sitting in my google docs for literally three months now so i thought it was time to post.
> 
> title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2tmNxfI5uc)

The silicone gives beneath his fingers, the fleshy material disconcerting in an unexplainable way. His grip is firm and though he can see slight depressions, it’s nothing compared to the natural whiteness that normally blooms under his fingertips, a sure sign of red blotches that will paint hips later. He’d taken the shopkeeper’s advice and warmed the pseudo-skin with a warm washcloth before he’d begun so as to emulate blood flow, but the heat has already dissipated. All that is left behind is cool, superficially powder-smooth fake skin straining against his aching palms. 

If he were being truthful with himself, he’d recognize how ridiculous this situation is. But it’s been three months since he’s heard a single word from McCree. Worse, Genji stopped giving him updates on the mission six weeks ago with a flippant utterance of  _ It’s a standard mission, anija. McCree can handle himself.  _ The urge to snap at Genji--to repeat the worries McCree himself had expressed on their last call--died in his throat as Genji had given him a withering glare that reminded Hanzo that Genji was indeed his superior.

Regardless, Hanzo is here, with this manufactured pleasure product meant to emulate an ass, inside and out, clutched in his perverted hands.

And really, Hanzo had never considered himself a particularly sexual person. Though, he supposes, he’d never considered himself the kind to fall for a man as foolish as Jesse McCree. The last four months he’s been without either, and at some point even the most expensive dildo money could buy isn’t enough. 

Stepping into the adult shop was acutely embarrassing the first dozen times, what with Hanzo stumbling over the little Spanish McCree’d taught him in the last year. After perhaps the twentieth visit, Hanzo’s chest stopped constricting out of fear of losing face. Upon his last visit, meant to replenish his stock of one-time use--for lack of a more elegant term--fleshlight sleeves, the shopkeeper suggested Hanzo upgrade to something a little more… permanent. 

As Hanzo pushes a lubed finger into the puckered bit of silicone, he mentally thanks the shopkeeper for suggesting the ultra ridged model. 

He knows he doesn’t have to prepare the thing in the same way he would McCree, but the purpose of this endeavour is to simulate the real experience as much as possible. Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut as he slides in another finger, too easily. The lack of resistance deflates Hanzo a little, but he pushes on. Behind his eyelids, he can picture every stunning detail of McCree’s ass--can imagine the tiny jumps his thigh muscles make as Hanzo slides in a third finger. The zig-zag pattern barely registers along his touch, contrary to Hanzo’s previous reservations about such a gaudy pattern of the thing’s inner workings. 

He spreads his fingers slightly, satisfied at the resistance at this motion. The McCree in his mind’s eye whimpers lowly as if trying to hide his reaction, just as the fool of a man had the last time they came together. When he crooks his fingers, he can hear the whine being ripped from McCree’s throat. 

His erection strains against the silk of Hanzo’s boxers as he pumps his fingers in and out of the toy. He almost pulls himself out, but thinks better of it--the more time he spends here, the more McCree will enjoy it. The slow ministrations turn rough, fast, as Hanzo imagines how McCree’s knees would threaten to clench together at the treatment. 

Unable to take it any longer, Hanzo nearly rips off his underwear in one practiced motion. Not wanting to open his eyes and shatter the illusion of McCree, dripping and impatient, pushing back against him, Hanzo blindly reaches to his nightstand for the lube. He uncaps it and dribbles some along the length of his cock, hissing as the cold liquid burns against his heated flesh. 

Hanzo takes a cheek into each of his hands and squeezes firmly, adamant to tear a moan from McCree even if the sound will echo only in his own mind. He teases the head of his cock against the slicked hole in front of him, and this is where it comes back to Hanzo--as loathe as he is to admit it, the hairlessness beneath the tip of his dick nearly takes Hanzo out of this imaginary tryst with McCree. With a growl, Hanzo resolutely bottoms out with a harsh snap of his hips. The slap of skin on (almost) skin sends a chill down Hanzo’s spine as the McCree in his head lets out a harsh breath that nearly spills into a groan. 

Hanzo braces his weight on one hand placed on the bed as he slides out until only the tip remains inside. He holds his position and counts slowly in his head,  _ one, two _ , as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead,  _ three, four-- _

_ “Han, move.  _ Please _.” _

Oh--how hearing McCree beg does things to his muddled brain. 

He slams back into the tight wetness wholly surrounding him, tearing a moan from both his and imaginary McCree’s throats.

Eyes still clenched shut, Hanzo repeatedly pulls out and pounds back in. Soon enough he finds a rhythm that has him gasping for air as the McCree in his mind puffs out moans into the blankets of their bed. 

The quickly approaching orgasm has his blood rushing in his ears; McCree’s own vocal responses crescendo until he’s practically shouting with every thrust.

(At least, that’s what Hanzo will tell himself later as justification for not hearing the door slide open in that moment.)

Without any warning, an inexplicably warm weight settles over Hanzo’s back, yanking him from his fantasy. His every muscle tenses against the intrusion, his hips stilling as his fight or flight instinct kicks definitively toward fight. 

“Woah, darlin’, don’t let me stop ya from enjoyin’ yourself now.”

The Southern drawl, thick like molasses, warm like the smooth burn of an expensive whiskey, ghosts over the shell of Hanzo’s ear. Another surge of blood shoots to his cock and he leans back into the touch, surrenders to the wet feeling of lips kissing down the column of his neck. 

“I didn’t much take ya for one to want a fuck doll, darlin’.” McCree slides a hand over his neck, shoulder, reaches for his torso. His fingers rub Hanzo’s quickly hardening nipple, twisting, pulling. 

“Ngh,” Hanzo groans out. “Desperate for you.” His hips resume their previous thrusting of their own volition as McCree reaches his other hand--already warmed for the occasion--between Hanzo’s cheeks. As a metal finger scrapes against his hole, Hanzo lets out a deep moan and his hips stutter in their rhythm. 

“You’re awfully sensitive today, Han.” The hand toying with Hanzo’s nipple ceases the relentless torture, moving downward to message his pec. McCree runs his tongue along the shell of Hanzo’s ear and the trail of saliva left behind is something Hanzo wishes his brain would still consider disgusting--but right now, McCree is back, McCree is here, McCree is  _ safe _ and Hanzo is sure the man could do anything he wants to Hanzo, and he’d thank him for it.

The weight on his back relinquishes and the soft moans stuck on Hanzo’s throat turn into a truly pitiful whine as McCree pulls away. Hanzo keeps his eyes squeezed shut, in case this is nothing more than some part of his brain suddenly becoming overactive in his sensitive state. The unmistakable clinking of a belt buckle being pulled loose rings in Hanzo’s ears and the unbecoming sound that spills from his mouth is resolutely not a sob. 

McCree’s wide smile shines through his voice when he says, “No need for all that, doll. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

And really, how Hanzo’s hips are still moving is beyond what his mind is currently capable of processing. 

Thankfully Hanzo doesn’t have much time to think about it, as McCree presses himself into Hanzo’s back once more. This time, there is no soft flannel or denim pushing against him--no, there is nothing between them, and McCree’s skin sears Hanzo’s. He lets out a ragged breath, hips stilling momentarily, as McCree reaches between his cheeks again with a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. The finger brushing against his hole is slick with lube, glides over his hole easily. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice, havin’ me in you while you’re fuckin’ your lil’ doll?”

If Hanzo had more than one functioning brain cell, he’s sure he would scoff and say,  _ Nice? How eloquent of you,  _ but all that comes from his mouth is another shaky breath. 

A finger slips past the right ring of muscle around his entrance, and Hanzo feels his knees nearly give way as they positively melt. 

“Oh, Han, I don’t think it’ll take long preppin’ you. Been ready for me, ain’t ya?”

McCree slips in a second finger against hardly any resistance. The sensation of being full while slowly fucking into something else is more intense than Hanzo could have imagined. 

(Not that he’d ever imagined such a scenario.)

(The uniquely overwhelming intensity is something he’ll use as justification later.)

Without realizing, Hanzo must’ve stopped the motion in his hips for longer than could be explained by a change in stimulation. McCree rests his weight against Hanzo’s back again, kisses his ear wetly, and whispers, “Somethin’ wrong, Han?”

The breath that escapes his mouth is ragged. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can say anything, McCree tenses against his back and unceremoniously pulls his fingers from Hanzo. 

“Hanzo?”

McCree gently, firmly, pulls Hanzo back by his shoulder so Hanzo has no choice but to look McCree in the eye,  _ finally.  _ As his eyes rove the face of the man he loves--gods, does he love McCree--his chest constricts painfully. The months without that scraggly beard, those deep crows feet crinkling at honey-coloured eyes, the nose crooked from a mission gone wrong back in Blackwatch--they’ve all taken a toll on Hanzo. 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels his now limp cock slip out of the sex toy in front of him. 

“Oh, Han,” McCree breathes out, fingers brushing the tops of Hanzo’s cheekbones. “Ain’t no need to cry, now.”

Hanzo inhales sharply through his teeth. “I am a grown man, I am not  _ crying.” _

McCree chuckles. He rearranges Hanzo so that McCree’s legs are spread on either side of Hanzo’s body with Hanzo curled against McCree’s bare chest. Belatedly, Hanzo hears the fake ass fall to the floor, and McCree runs fingers through his hair. He rests his chin atop Hanzo’s head. “I missed you, too, Hanzo. Y’ain’t got any idea how much.”

This time Hanzo feels the tear slide from the corner of his eye. “Was it enough to purchase a silicone sex toy shaped like an ass?”

The laugh that McCree lets out is loud, echoing in the small bedroom chamber. Hanzo feels it rumble in the chest under his ear. “I’d buy a hundred sex dolls to show you my love if that’s what it takes.”

Hanzo wrinkles his nose. “We would not have a place to store them all.”

“Got me there.”

The two are silent for several moments, McCree holding Hanzo to his front, fingers carding through Hanzo’s long locks. 

“Love you, Hanzo.”

_ Don’t leave me for so long next time, _ he wants to say, but he knows it would be unfair. So he says, “You too, Jesse,” instead.

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i don't know what this is either.
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/OedipusOctopus) for weeb/acnh/ow shit


End file.
